


A Minute A Piece

by cave_leporem



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Crack, Drama, Humour, I couldn't resist, I listened and I wrote- mini drabbles all together, M/M, Minor Angst, Music channel meme, Rule 63, a couple of AUs, implied incest- not heavy, many relationships, the full works in tiny drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2395217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cave_leporem/pseuds/cave_leporem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miscellaneous three minute drabbles to kick my muse back into gear. Various pairings, music inspired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Minute A Piece

**Author's Note:**

> To kick my muse back into gear... yeah, she's still being a stubborn bitch. Enjoi in the meantime, regardless.
> 
> I own none of the songs.
> 
> This is a work of fiction; no offence is meant to any of the persons mentioned herein.
> 
> (I am not sorry :-/)

Just Give Me A Reason- Pink ft. Nate Ruess

The biggest mistake of his career to date, Jorge knows, is sleeping with his team mate. Before- there was tension, and biting comments between the old icon and the new blood to keep Yamaha’s hopes alive- but it was after Jorge slunk out in the dark of the night that the wall came up between their garages.

What A Feeling- Irene Cara

Everybody has a song. They might not say what it is- God knows Marc would never admit to the most played song on his IPod- but everybody had one. The song that inspired them, that spoke to them and drove them to greater heights.

And he had found his by chance, years and years ago. _Take your passion, and make it happen._

Summer Nights- John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John

“You are not my Sandy,” Casey said, unwilling to believe this bizarre scenario was actually happening ( _again_ ). “You aren’t even from Australia!”

Dani shuffled his feet and refused to meet his team mate’s gaze. “But it was a summer fling, when you fucked me? That’s it, no lingering awkwardness?”

Casey shuddered. “Only what you’re bringing to the table by asking the question.”

And Dani shook his head. “I can’t believe I got that reference,” he muttered, more to himself.

Casey nudged him, an awkward ‘bromance’ move. “Don’t hate on Olivia Newton-John.”

It Must Have Been Love- Roxette

The thing is- Aleix loves his younger brother. Aleix loves him so much that it hurts. Because he’s human, and there’s always that part of him screaming, _why don’t you love me like that too?_

It’s become louder and louder since Pol moved up to MotoGP. Every joking word from a commentator- ‘Sunday dinners at their house must be _interesting_ ’- falls flat because Aleix has ever let on to his younger brother that he is both exuberant and resentful of his success. Aleix _loves_ his brother, more than he should, and he can’t separate ‘well done!’ from ‘did you see what I just did?’

He knows Pol is brilliant; that given the chance, his younger brother could challenge the world. He just wishes that his younger brother saw the same in him, sometimes.

Don’t Want To Miss A Thing- Aerosmith

Marc is not a morning person. He’s never had reason to begrudge this before he started sleeping with Jorge Lorenzo.

His lover has a folder full of pictures of Marc in- if not incriminating, certainly _telling_ \- poses; asleep, half-asleep, half-awake (and they were the worst, when Marc sees his own face confused between _urgh, morning_ and _Jorge!_ ). Marc has never woken up before Jorge, never seen his lover asleep, and has no blackmail of his own to even the score.

Until now.

Call it fate, an act of God, a miracle, but Marc shook himself awake and then realised Jorge was still next to him. Barely daring to breathe, Marc reached over to the nightstand to retrieve his phone, and took the picture he’d been craving for _months_ now.

He didn’t do anything so sentimental as save it as his wallpaper; anybody could get a hold of his phone, and it was a risk neither of them were willing to take just yet. But he saved the picture to his phone’s tiny memory, then to his computer’s drive, and cherished it every time he had a spare moment to open it again.

Pon De Replay- Rihanna

“You gonna dance with me, then?”

Jorge is all alcohol and waggling eyebrows. Cal is at least halfway there, because he barely considers the question before getting to his feet (with a minor stumble, okay) and taking the Majorcan’s hand.

“One dance,” he says, knowing it will be a lie.

Cal wakes up the next morning with shadowy memories of Jorge, and grinding, and _more_ , and can fill in the blanks by the simple fact that the Majorcan is slumbering in his bed next to him.

His body betrays him by grinning. If he takes away the hangover headache, it’s not entirely a _bad_ feeling to wake up with.

Bring Me To Life- Evanescance

“I took a chance,” Vale says to the interviewer, “On this person. And it paid off.”

It’s not a lie. It’s an omission of various sins, but it isn’t a lie.

People might hear it and assume he’s fallen in love over the last six months. They might think he’s settled down and rediscovered his form in the routine of it all, waking up with the same girl day after night after day.

What he tells nobody is that it is not his girlfriend who sets his blood on fire. His girlfriend is not the person he took that chance on. She knew from the start, still joins in on occasion, but she wasn’t the reason he suddenly rediscovered what a podium was.

She doesn’t care; they are matched in this, at least. He is Valentino Rossi, and she is Valentino Rossi’s girlfriend. She doesn’t care that is isn’t she he first goes to, only that she reaps the benefits.

She isn’t the one who truly lights his blood on fire.

Christmas Time- The Darkness

Dani fought the urge to burst out laughing as he took in Marc’s nervous twitching. “Are you joking?” he asked instead, the kindest words he could manage.

Mulishly, Marc dug in his heels. “I probably won’t see you before the 25th,” he explained, “And I bought it a while ago, so-” he finally understands Dani’s silent humour, and shoves the box into his chest. “Merry Christmas, arsehole. Don’t open it until the 25th.”

Marc’s present isn’t time sensitive. It’s just not something he wants Dani opening in front of him.

Although packaged in a box, Marc’s present to Dani amounts to an open offer of a romantic drink any time the elder Spaniard would care to take him up on it.

Marc loses hope as the days after Christmas dwindle out. He’s pleasantly surprised when his phone beeps on the 29th December.

_Merry Christmas, arsehole. Doing anything on the 5 th January?_

Marc doesn’t let his hopes get too high. _That depends on what you’re offering_.

Rockstar- Nickelback

Vale’s eyes glitter in the candlelight. “What would you give me,” he asks, Italian accent deliberately heavy, “If I sponsored you for a record deal?”

Marc swallowed, knowing that although he might hate himself for this, it was a moment that could make or break his career in the music industry. “What do you want?” He answered, instead of replying to the question.

Bang Bang- Jessie J, Nicki Minaj, Arianda Grande

Maria Marquez lived by the creed that okay, she was something special on a motorbike. It meant jack squat to her interaction with the rest of the world.

Case and point: Dani Pedrosa.

She bemoaned her fate to her sister: “I can’t believe that for once, I actually wish this guy was a dirty old pervert willing to defile me at the drop of a hat.”

Alessandra shook her head in amusement. “I don’t know what you’re doing wrong, but that man is yours already if you want him.”

Maria looked pointedly over her shoulder. “Then why isn’t he here now, meeting the family as it were?”

Alessandra smirked. “Maybe he’s trying real hard _not_ to be a dirty old pervert over his pretty young team mate?”

I Miss Nothing- The Pretty Reckless (same continuity as 'Bang Bang')

“I am not going to do this to you,” the infuriating man said to her, lips still slick with her saliva. “Maria-”

“Dani.” She cut him off. “You have not pushed me for anything, except a race win on occasion.” Appealing to the man’s pride couldn’t hurt, right? “I suggested, I flirted, I kissed you. And you kissed back. To me, that suggests a consenting attraction between two adults.”

She could almost hate him for the attraction he’s fostered in her. This man who has never won a world championship, who holds her fascination nonetheless. Since becoming his team mate, it has only become harder not to seek his approval for her every result in MotoGP to date, and she wants to hate it.

But she wants Dani to like her, too, so she never quite manages to do so.

Am I Wrong?- Nico and Vinz

“You’re reaching for stars, Jorge,” Vale cautioned his team mate.

He couldn’t tell if Jorge’s inhibitions were loosened by alcohol, or if the Majorcan had finally had enough of their game. “I’ll touch them even if it sends me crashing back to Earth seconds later.”

Jorge is not a poet. Alcohol is definitely playing a part here. “You’re wrong,” Vale draws back from Jorge’s hands, but refuses to defensively hug himself. He keeps his hands loose at his sides.

The Majorcan smirks at him. “Then I don’t want to be right,” Jorge says, reaching out to reel his team mate back in.

And God help him, Vale surrenders.

Stay With Me- Sam Smith

He’s only human. Therefore, sleeping with the same person, exclusively, for four months on the trot gives him notions more romantic than his partner cares for.

He doesn’t understand why Dani’s so offended, regardless. “I’m only asking for exclusivity,” Marc hisses into the not-quite-private bubble they’ve managed to find this weekend. But it’s Dani’s response that shocks him in the core of his soul.

“Why do you even think you have to _ask_ for it?”

Born To Make You Happy- Britney Spears

_Where did it all go wrong?_

Dani isn’t quite sure. As far as he was concerned, things were fine. He’d raised his track concerns to Livio, and okay, raised enough of a fuss that they actually listened, but Nicky- he just sat there- and he took it. His bike and Dani’s weren’t simply different by virtue of their riders anymore- Dani was getting the experimental tech, the kind of stuff Nicky was given in 2006, and he had no idea until it was too late that Nicky wasn’t getting the same appreciation from their mutual employer anymore.

Ghost- Ella Henderson

Marc’s humble about his talent. The reason for that, he’s never shared with anyone, not even his brother.

The voice in his head knows exactly what he’s thinking, and is smugly grateful for it.

_Not like you’d be half as good without me telling you where to brake. Nice to know you aren’t taking full credit for it_.

Marc isn’t a religious man, but he’s prayed to that voice for guidance on occasions too numerous to count.

Superheroes- The Script

It’s difficult living in Marc’s shadow. Every interviewer is wondering, even if they don’t say it, _and how does that compare to your brother_?

Alex ignores every implication, because he won’t let himself live like that. And fuck anybody who expects him to do so. He is his own person, and if they aren’t willing to believe it now, they will.

He’s going to fight for his career. And he’s going to beat every single one of them.

Let’s Dance- 5ive

“This is _such_ a bad idea,” Marc slurs as they line up at the bar.

Jorge smirks wickedly at him. “You should have said that three drinks ago.”

And honestly, Marc agrees with him.

Don’t’cha- Pussycat Dolls

Cal stares at his phone. It is playing a truly deplorable song, one he doesn’t remember ever saving to his memory card.

The number is blocked, too. “Hello?” He answers cautiously.

There’s music, drums and thumping bass on the other end of the line. “I thought the song might give you a clue,” Matt’s immediately recognisable voice says, “But if you need further hints, I’m in room 2010.”

_Don’t you wish your girlfriend was fun like me_? Cal’s torn between wondering when Matt stole his phone, and ringing up a taxi to take him back to the hotel _pronto_.

Lullaby- Professor Green ft. Tori Kelly

“Wish me luck?”

Pol _pushes_ his luck as he presses a kiss to his brother’s cheek.

Buck Rogers- Feeder

“Dude.” Jorge stops, and stares in awe. “Is that a fifth-gen Mustang?“

Dani can only smirk. “What were you expecting?”

Jorge shrugs honestly enough. “Not that.”

And it’s an obvious line, but he has to say it. “Fancy a ride, Jorge?”

Jorge tears his gaze from the cherry red classic mustang, and swallows heavily. “Hell, _yeah_.”

Blame It On The Night- Calvin Harris ft. John Newman (same continuity as 'Buck Rogers')

“Sweet Jesus.”

Alongside the heavily applied elbow, it is not the kindest way Jorge’s ever been woken up.

Then his mind clicks in, and he realises it’s the voice of fellow Spaniard and not-so-much-anymore rival, Dani Pedrosa, waking him up. Presumably the elbow belongs to the Honda rider too.

At the angry look in those eyes, he is on the defensive. “Blame it on the night!” Jorge insists, before Dani can get another word in.

Discreetly, he checks himself under the covers, and swears internally. There is not a stitch of clothing on his body.

Dani is sitting up, drawing all of his armour back into place for a pre-emptive strike. Jorge jumps in first.

“But hell, I don’t know how much you remember, but _what a night_.”

Frozen- Madonna

It isn’t like he’s been waiting for that one special person. But he can’t help but think, when he wakes up to the sunlight shining on his lover’s face, _you’re it for me. How can I see anyone else_?

It’s slightly obsessive, what he feels for his younger lover. And yet, Vale knows in every strand of his soul that trying to say, to explain any of this to the person in question would result in them running far, far away.

He can’t take from this person. He can’t cage them for fear of losing exactly what it was about them that he fell in love with in the first place.

AM to PM- Christina Milian

Having burst into the hotel room without previous agreement, Marc could only stare. “Do you seriously have nothing better to do with your time?”

Dani glared at him, moving his gaze from the music video. “This was hot when I grew up.”

Marc raised an eyebrow. “You really want to go there?”

The age thing still gets to Dani sometimes, so he gives in with bad grace and fluffs up the pillow next to him on the bed. Marc ignores the implicit invitation.

“I had a different idea,” he says, eyes on the sliver of skin showing between Dani’s t-shirt and casual trousers.

Dani sighs theatrically. “Are you going to keep me up all night again?”

And Marc knows he’s already won the argument this night. Like he does every other night. “Get pretty,” he orders his lover, “And it would be more effective if you complained during the _night_ , rather than the hangover.”


End file.
